Chapter Text
With Umbridge gone (arrested, to be precise) they might actually get a half-decent professor this term, but given the well-known curse on the position, Anthony’s not holding his breath. It’d be helpful to resume DA meetings given…well, everything, which is why he’s relieved to hear from his fellow prefects aboard the Hogwarts Express that Headmaster Dumbledore has signed off on the group as an official club, staff supervisor included.
“And lucky for us it’ll be Roy,” Ron snickers, elbowing a flustered Hermione.
Anthony barely refrains from rolling his eyes. No doubt they’ll have an influx of female students signing up for the DA once that little tidbit becomes known. Thankfully, the alchemy professor has proven to be a no-nonsense sort to rival McGonagall. Still…
“Mustang, really? What’s he know about defense?”
“He actually gave us advice the first time around, mate.”
“The mock battles and teams were his idea. Plus he’s friends with the—with some aurors, so he can get us a list of spells they use in the field.”
He blinks, a little taken aback at how quickly they both jumped to defend the man. Then again, saving Hogwarts from Umbridge does kind of merit it.
“He knew? Last term?”
“Oh yeah,” Ron grins. “Remember that time Hermione got detention? Mustang set it up so we could meet without Umbridge suspecting—”
“You make it sound like we knew that at the time—”
“Anyway, he passed on some useful spells and we looked them up in the library—”
“I looked them up—”
He still has to patrol the compartments, which means cutting this lovers’ quarrel short.
“Oi, if you say he’s good then he’s good. Just make sure the meetings don’t clash with any house’s quidditch practice, remember?”
“Course,” Ron grins.
Patrol goes pretty smoothly, it’s not like anyone’s got the energy to pull stupid pranks with the impending Wizarding War on their minds. Well, the Weasley twins might’ve, but they’re staffing their joke shop in Diagon Alley, not terrorizing the train corridors.
It leaves him time to think.
A tiny corner of his mind wonders where Dumbledore even finds these people. In third year, when Dementors were swarming Hogwarts in search of Sirius Black, he’d gone and found one of the few people capable of a Patronus Charm. Granted, Lupin ended up being a werewolf, but he was also a damn good professor and if it hadn’t been for the uproar from the Board of Governors he could’ve easily stayed on even after the truth came out. And then in fourth year, in response to the return of a notoriously deadly tournament, Dumbledore brought in one of the best aurors on record, even if he had gone a bit nutty by then. The less said about Umbridge the better, but fifth year also gave them Mustang, who’s proven to be an alchemical genius and master duelist, as well as Firenze, who almost makes him wish he was taking that useless subject if only to see how a centaur would teach it, since they’re notoriously isolationist.
At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if the next staff addition is a bloody dragon trainer or even a cursebreaker.
An even tinier part of his mind is a little put out by Mustang being so good at everything. This is a man who trounced a senior Ministry official in under a minute, is apparently on good enough terms with aurors to consult with them about a school club, and obviously a professorship at thirty is nothing to sneeze at, especially in such an obscure and complicated subject. He knows Professor Vector managed the same, but she’s also a product of Durmstrang’s ruthless curriculum. Though to be fair, no one really knows Mustang’s alma mater. He’s certainly never mentioned.
Anthony frowns.
Mustang hasn’t volunteered anything about himself, come to think of it. Everything he knows is secondhand—the whole school found out his age after Umbridge’s inspection, and they know he has a girlfriend because some Hufflepuff girls had asked Professor Sprout about the butterfly roses he’d carried out of the Great Hall that one time. They know he jogs in the mornings because the early risers see him do it. And they know he blasted Umbridge’s wand into a pile of ash because members of both the DA and the Inquisitorial Squad were there when it happened. As for his home country, any work prior to Hogwarts, education, hobbies, a middle name if he even has one…not a word.
That hasn’t stopped the speculation. Despite Mustang’s many muggle habits, from his odd green pens to the “protractors” and other tools he’d forced upon them during the geometry unit of class, most Slytherins insist he’s from a pureblood family abroad.
Well, Headmaster Dumbledore must know, he reasons. He can't imagine anyone managing to keep secrets from him.